


The Pink Dollhouse

by Mystic_Ender



Series: Dear Sunshine [2]
Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:28:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25662121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mystic_Ender/pseuds/Mystic_Ender
Summary: Michael did many wrongs in his life, but one thing he did know, was that there were worse people than him out there. One of these people was Simon, an outright asshole who apparently didn't understand the concept of privacy. Granted, fighting him hadn't been one of his smartest plans.But, seeing that he ended up being brought to Jeremy's house, maybe it hadn't been too bad of an idea.
Relationships: Michael Afton/Jeremy Fitzgerald
Series: Dear Sunshine [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1858189
Comments: 2
Kudos: 28





	The Pink Dollhouse

The bullying had gone worst for Fritz, Michael noticed during the week. He was used to seeing the taller teen in funky fashion, sometimes the colors or styles not fitting together. That was their brand, and they always had been fairly proud of it. Though during the week, the colors had died down to more neutral tones and the clothing slowly became more and more normal. Fritz didn’t want to show it, but Michael saw it. And he was concerned.

“Hey, Fritz!” A boy from their swim team said from the other side of the locker rooms, a huge grin on his face that suddenly looked very punchable at the moment. The boy still wasn’t changed and still dripping wet, and he honestly looked more like a mess than anything at that moment. His gang stood behind him, snickering slightly. “What’s a girl like you doing on the boy’s swim team?”

“I don’t know, Simon, why is a pussy like you on our swim team?” Fritz replied, not even bothering to look back at them before making their way to the shower stalls to change. Michael wanted to laugh at the reply, he truly did, but that was so unlike Fritz that it threw him off. So, instead, he gritted his teeth as he dumped his swimsuit into his bag and listened to the outraged cry Simon made as his friend group cackled. Normally, the teen would have glared the bully and threatened him, though they had barely done anything. 

Michael knew Fritz since they were five years old. He could distinctly remember when they still wore more girlish, conservative, dresses, and still wore their hair in high ponytails. They laughed with the girls, they wore makeup, though Michael could see every time how it hurt them. They hadn’t looked happy this way. They looked like someone forced into a mold, someone who tried to squeeze into a box but they simply couldn’t fit. Though, maybe Michael noticed all this because they had known them for so long.

“Fritz, are you okay?” He had asked when they were twelve, sitting in his backyard eating popsicles on a hot summer day. Clothing stuck on you simply from light sweat, and it was extremely uncomfortable. Ideally, it would be the type of day sitting in front of a fan, but his youngest siblings were hoarding it. So, outside it was.

“I… don’t know,” They had replied slowly, wooden stick still in their mouth even though the popsicle had long been finished eating. Their hair was in a high ponytail, framing their still chubby cheeks. They would lose them in the next year, making their jaw look even stronger than it was now at the ripe age of twelve. “Do you ever feel like you’re not a boy?”

“No,” He replied, not even stopping to consider his answer. He couldn’t remember not feeling like one. Sure sometimes he saw his mother in skirts and wondered if they were comfortable, but he never considered being a woman. It sounded weird to his ears, uncomfortable even. “Why?”

“Oh,” They had replied quietly, ditching their stick into the grass. They had then stared somewhere into the grass as if it was the most interesting thing in the world at the moment. “...I don’t feel like a girl.”

“You feel like a boy?” He had asked fairly innocently, not even thinking about it being foreign. He had known Fritz all his life, so why would that be different? They were still friends. 

“No,” Their voice had gone even quieter at the moment. They had then started chewing on their lip, worry filling their bright green eyes. “Am I a monster?”

“No!” He remembers screaming. His friend would never be a monster. Michael, in his case, would feel like one several years into the future when he was older, but that wasn’t the case now. He would also wonder why Fritz had stuck around when they had been there to see him do the worst mistake of his life, he would wonder why they hadn’t ditched him. But, at the age of twelve, that wasn’t a bother of his. Not now. He then remained silent for a bit, brows furrowing. “Do you want to go steal some of my old shirts?”

Fritz’s bright, hopeful young eyes were quickly replaced by a flash and the sound of giggling coming from boys crouching near Fritz’s stall. Simon looked at a camera, a huge shit-eating grin on his face as he slowly turned around towards him, waving a camera.

“Just you wait until I plaster pictures of your friend all over the school, Afton. A girl in the swim team, scandalous!” The grin then grew, twisting Simon’s face into the worst mess he had ever seen. It looked like a toddler had taken clay and tried to shape a face out of it. And even then, this description was being generous. Simon’s eyes were cruel, a glint in them as if it had been his most brilliant idea. “Naked, even! We hit jackpot, boys!”

Michael saw red as he launched towards Simon. The boy cried as his head hit the tile floor, though not hard enough to start bleeding, much to Michael’s disappointment. He punched Simon right across the jaw and was about to go for it a second time, hoping to see the little asshole bleed, when hands pulled him back. Two of Simon’s goons were holding him tightly, and Michael watched as the little asshole slowly got off the ground. The camera laid abandoned on the tile floor.

The first punch was bad.

The second one, just as much.

The third one? Michael almost cried out. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t allow this human trash to get even more satisfaction out of this.

Strong hands pulled Michael out of the goons’ grip, and screaming could be heard. It sounded oddly like the coach’s voice, but he might have been imagining it. There was a slight ringing in his ears, nothing concerning, but his vision was a bit blurry. His left eye felt especially puffy, and Michael knew it would turn black by tomorrow morning, if not earlier.

“You idiot, I could have taken care of it,” A voice hissed in his ears. He quickly recognized it as Fritz’s, and by their tone, Michael knew he was fucked when he got better. He would probably get one of the sternest talking in his life, the closest second being the one his mother gave him when he egged the neighbor’s house when they refused to give candy to him on Halloween when he was six. “You’re lucky the coach was near.”

“The camera,” He hissed out, trying to straighten himself up, but only ended up leaning even more on Fritz as his head started spinning. He blinked in surprise as Fritz waved it in front of his face, and they quickly put it into their jean’s jacket. It was the one with painted ladybugs on it. It had been a gift from their mother last year, and it had never really been a favorite of theirs in the summertime, but when the weather was cold enough in the autumn, they often brought it out.

“I got it. Trust me, I’m crushing that thing once I’m back home.” They rolled their eyes and helped him walk out of the locker room. Michael was slowly being brought towards the coach’s office, and he knew he was in deep shit. If Fritz wasn’t going to give him the stern talking, the coach certainly was despite his state.

The office wasn’t the biggest, but it always appeared bigger than it actually was. Pictures of the previous teams hung on the wall, and the one from this year was on his desk. Michael was on it, sitting near the front with a goofy smile on his face. He still hadn’t stuck his brother in the bear’s mouth then. He still thought he wasn’t a monster. Gray, fairly plush chairs were in front of the metal desk. The coach’s chair was much softer than their’s, though, Michael spoke from experience.

When the man finally came back into the office and sat in his chair, Michael had already considered running out of it despite his state. A disappointed frown greeted him, and already it was concerning. That was one of the rare emotions the coach ever showed, and even then it only appeared when you truly disappointed him. It wasn’t something you wanted to see in your lifetime.

“Coach, hey, I can explain--” He nervously laughed, sitting straighter up and looking towards Fritz, who didn’t even bother looking at him. Their gaze was fixed on the camera in their hands, and they clutched it so tightly their arms were shaking. “You know, I swear Simon started it--”

“Fritz told me what happened, Michael,” The man on the other side of the desk started, and his hands were crossed on his belly. He could have looked relaxed, he supposed, but that was the next level of disappointment coming from the coach. Only one person got to see it in their lifetime, and it was back in the 70s. So, Michael was the lucky second. “Though, I must say I am disappointed. You, starting a fight?”

“...Am I out of the team?”

“Hm, no. Simon will be, on top of being suspended for a couple of days once I bring this to the principal,” The man seemed to wave his concerns away with his hand, before sighing and continuing with whatever he was gonna say next. “Though your reaction was understandable, you will be expected into detention tomorrow.”

“Wait, for real?” He hissed out, anger pinching at his heart a little. He was getting detention for defending his best friend? Sure, violence wasn’t always the answer, but in this case, he knew Simon wouldn’t have been talked down. “Coach, you can’t give me detention!”

“It’s only an hour after school, Michael. You can live through it.” The coach answered calmly, not even bothered. “Thank you Fritz, for coming to me. Now, you two get out. Go back home, and Michael, take care of those wounds.”

“Of course, sir,” Fritz said, before helping Michael up and dragging him out of the office. The taller teen remained silent as they walked down the familiar halls, the night already set outside. It was the end of October, and Halloween was soon nearing. Which, explained the Halloween dance posters on the walls. Not that Michael would go, anyway.

A car that wasn’t Fritz’s was waiting outside for them, and on the driver’s door leaned a familiar blond, who looked both extremely confused and concerned. Michael groaned loudly at the sight. Sure, he appreciated Jeremy now, but he still didn’t want to be seen with a busted lip and probably already darkening eye. It would hurt his already shitty reputation with him if the way he talked to him back at the fair had been any indication.

“Couldn’t we have taken your car?” He hissed lowly enough so that only Fritz would hear. The teen glared at him, before continuing helping him down the stairs of the school and into the parking lot where Jeremy was waiting.

“My car’s at the garage,” They answered, before grinning at Jeremy with a wave. They still looked slightly annoyed at the situation. “Now be a dear, will you?”

“What _happened?_ ” Jeremy hissed out, quickly scrambling to open the doors that give to the back of the car to allow Fritz to dump Michael on the seats. It was done a bit roughly, too, making the freckled teen groan as aching ribs hit the surprisingly hard seats of Jeremy’s car. Michael already much preferred Fritz’s truck despite its battered state. 

“This idiot got into a fight.”

“I’m the idiot,” Was all Michael found worth answering before passing right out.

\---

“...So why do we have to bring him to my home again?” Jeremy asked nervously as he drove out of the school’s parking lot. He looked into the mirror hanging up to peek at the sleeping Michael in the back. The teen’s lip was busted and already bruises were forming on his face, and from how dark they were, whoever hit him knew how to fight and had the strength to back it out. Jeremy’s house wasn’t too far, and right now he was feeling quite happy his parents were out for the night. He didn’t want to explain to his parents why he was bringing in Michael Afton into his house, bruised to hell and back.

“My parents hate him, his dad is a dick,” Fritz answered, opening the camera sitting on their lap. They looked through the various pictures and made sure to delete the most recent ones, which clearly showed them. Though they were extremely blurry, and Jeremy didn’t notice what they exactly were. “Good enough of a reason, isn’t it?”

Jeremy’s fingers drummed on the steering wheel, and he really wanted to groan out loud. First had been the fair. Which, Jeremy hadn’t minded seeing Michael hadn’t looked too much of a dick the few times they hunt out, if only a bit antisocial. But then he had been matched with him for an hour, and he quickly discovered Michael didn’t like him. Not that much anyway. Now, this. He could have been brought to another of their friend’s homes, so he didn’t get why he got the call. 

But still, seeing Michael’s state, he minded a bit less now.

They quickly pulled into Jeremy’s house parking lot. The house was a two-story one, and the exterior was painted soft pastel pink. It was his mother’s choice, he assumed. The roof, though, was painted bright yellow. That, he knew, was because of his father. It looked like a dollhouse, if he was being honest, and the only one that stuck out on the entire street. Flower beds also covered the pathway to the main entrance.

“Alright, grab him by the legs, I get his shoulders,” Fritz said, once Michael had been dragged out of the car. The guy was surprisingly heavy and acted as he could slide off anything. Perks of being passed out, he supposed. The trek to the front door, now opened, was a pain but they did it. 

They then promptly dumped him on the couch.

“Alright, now that’s done.” Fritz was already breathing heavily, a hand on their hip. Their t-shirt reached their mid tighs, and they wore jeans rolled up to half the calves. Stripped, bright pink socks were clearly visible. ”You got a baseball bat anywhere?”

“...Under the deck, why?” He asked, then watched Fritz fo right out the back door. Jeremy shot an annoyed look to Fritz’s back as he watches them leave, then sighed as he looked back to the passed out teen on the couch. He passed a hand over his face slowly, a groan rising in his throat. “Guess I’ll have to treat your bruises myself,”

Finding the bandages and rubbing alcohol hadn’t been too hard, considering. His father hurt himself often enough when building things in the yard, the things were always near the front of the pharmacy, along with the medicine his mother had to take. Though, he wondered if Michael would mind the Winnie the Pooh band-aids. The bigger, white bandages were too much, and Jeremy couldn’t find some neutral colored ones. So, he stole some of his little sister’s.

Halfway through cleaning some of the worst face wounds, a hand swatted at his face and a hiss left Michael’s lips. Jeremy quickly stopped and scrambled back, too close to the now awake teen to be comfortable.

Though, despite the bruises, the blond did notice Michael looked cute as he slowly woke up.

He quickly shook the thought out, though.

“Where’m’i?” The freckled boy slurred, and his eyes blinked tiredly up at the white ceiling of the living room. He definitely looked confused and a little panicked. as his head turned towards Jeremy, who was kneeling next to the couch with the bandages in hand. 

“My house,” Jeremy replied quietly, before putting the last bandage on. He stared at Michael, who still looked confused. “...You got into a fight?”

Silence.

“...Oh, I did.” He groaned as he lifted himself up into a sitting position. The boy’s gaze was looking over the messy living room, Donna’s toys all over the floor. There were a few Barbies with their hair cut off, as well as the occasional horse figurine and coloring books. It was a mess, and Donna never cleaned it up, which caused them to walk on one of the toys half the time. “Where’s Fritz?”

“Backyard. Doing… something, with a baseball bat.” Jeremy shrugged, before getting up. His legs hurt a bit from being stuck into the same position for quite some time, the blood rushing back in. “You want anything to drink while I go get something cold to put on your eye?”

“No… No, thanks.”

It was weird having Michael in his house, but Jeremy found he didn’t mind as much as he thought he would. It seems his actions to make it up to him at the fair still affected his judgment because having him in his house was almost… pleasant.

And he found he was strangely happier than usual as he and Fritz hung around later into the night.


End file.
